


Lying in Wait

by Lumelle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Injury, M/M, Nwalin Week, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin has no regrets about getting in the way of the blade meant for Thorin when he could not stop it otherwise. That doesn't mean he has to like being stuck in bed afterwards.</p><p>Especially when Nori won't come to see him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lying in Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Nwalin Week 2016, the prompt "Injury/Comfort". This one just wouldn't fit into the series the others are in ~~even though some Fíli/Ori sneaked in anyway~~.
> 
>  **Please note** that this fic features a character being badly injured as the consequence of an assault/assassination attempt as well as fears related to another attack. Please read accordingly.
> 
> Check out the awesome [fanart](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/146021521793/nwalin-cuddles-inspired-by-lying-in-wait) by BlueSparkle inspired by this fic!

As the knife sank deep into his stomach, Dwalin could only think that he had been dealing too much with war lately.

The problem with war was, it actually required a rather different set of skills than guard duty. It wasn't that Dwalin had been slacking off, by any means, even on the road he had kept up with his training, and then there had been all the actual battles. However, in battle, you always knew who the enemy was. There was no mistaking a charging orc, and a goblin could not sneak near unnoticed, not that they even bothered to try. In war, the only task was to keep his weapons moving and pointed in the right direction, and he would probably come out all right as long as he didn't get entirely overwhelmed.

In war, no enemy could have sneaked close enough without his notice that the only option left was to block the incoming attack with his own body.

He struck out even as the blade sank into his flesh, heard cries and clamour that he could not truly make sense of. His stomach burned with white-hot agony, worse than should have been possible for the size of the wound, and he cursed aloud. Poison. Of course, poison was always the choice of cowards, even those who actually had the gall to march up to the king in open court and try to assassinate him then and there.

At least the knife was now lodged in his stomach, his hand firmly clasped over the hilt. It would not be turned on Thorin, not while he could help it.

Dwalin tried to look up, to make some sense of the situation, but he was getting pushed back, to the side of the throne. People were surrounding them, weapons were drawn, someone might have been calling his name but it drowned in the sound of all the other cries and shouts.

But then, in war, he would not have had quick hands rushing to his aid.

*

Dwalin blinked up at the ceiling.

This was, if he wasn't terribly mistaken, his own bedroom. He would hope he wasn't mistaken, because that would have been just embarrassing. But no, this seemed like his ceiling, felt like his bed.

He tried to sit up, then sank right back with a curse. That hurt. He'd been in pain before, more than he could remember, but he'd always just pushed right through it. Now, though, it rather seemed the pain had the better of him.

"You really shouldn't be doing that, you know."

Dwalin blinked, turning his head. He really should have been ashamed for not immediately noticing the presence of another in his room, but then he wasn't exactly in stellar condition. It was only Ori anyway, sitting beside his bed with some knitting in his hands.

"Ori." His voice sounded terribly hoarse. "What happened?"

"You, ah. You got stabbed in court." Ori lowered his knitting, looking terribly worried. Though then, he often looked worried. "It's — Óin says you should be fine, you didn't lose as much blood as you might have and he figured out the antidote, but it'll be a while before you recover. It was a pretty bad wound."

"Right." That made sense. Stomach wounds could turn out very nasty; even if nothing terribly important inside got hurt, they still tended to cause a lot of trouble to the muscles. "How's the situation?"

Now, Ori straightened, as though preparing to give an official report. "Thorin and Fíli are both unharmed." At least he knew where to start. Good kid. "The culprit was wounded, but apparently managed to get away in the confusion. Fíli has taken charge of the guards and increased patrols to find the attacker, and for the time being no one involved with the royal family is allowed anywhere alone. We're working on the assumption the attack was motivated by some personal grudge against Thorin, but we can't be sure."

"Good thinking." It was the most logical assumption. It couldn't have to do with the throne, since Thorin had two direct heirs, and such a bold attack was too risky for someone hoping to get rid of all three of them. "And why are you here?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you, to see if anything changes. And, well. Fíli was worried the culprit might try to sneak in and finish the job." Ori did not look too happy about the idea, lips pinched and hands tense around his knitting needles, but he met Dwalin's gaze directly.

"And he chose you to keep guard?" Dwalin chuckled, then immediately regretted it as a wave of pain shot through his stomach. Even so, it was rather laughable. Not that Ori didn't have a lot of spirit, but he was hardly a warrior. "What are you going to do if someone shows up, stab them with your needles?"

"Hopefully not, I fear that would ruin my poor needles," Ori sniffed. "No, Fíli let me borrow something more efficient." He reached behind his back, lifting up a familiar warhammer. Fíli's hammer wasn't quite as massive as Dwalin's own, but it was impressive nevertheless, and Ori handled it with the casual air that came only from lengthy practice or raw strength. Considering that Dori was the only dwarf ever to have defeated Dwalin in arm wrestling since he turned fifty, Dwalin really shouldn't have been as surprised as he was.

"Can you even use that thing?" He lifted his eyebrows. "You did well enough in Goblintown, I suppose, but we've seen this attacker is a bit more skilled than a goblin."

"There's a guard out front, and besides the room has only one door," Ori pointed out. "If anyone comes in that I don't recognise, I'm taking the hammer to their skull. Fíli's orders."

"…You know, I'm actually going to believe that." He had rarely seen the little scribe looking so fierce. But then, Ori had gone through the quest and the war, the same as the rest of them. Dwalin supposed it wasn't that surprising his bark would now have some bite behind it.

Nori was probably very proud.

"Óin should be back soon to check in on you. I'm sure that once he tells everyone you're awake, you'll have a lot of visitors. So, ah, just be prepared for that." This was more familiar, this slightly shy floundering about, and a small part of Dwalin was almost happy to see the war hadn't entirely changed the lad. Nori was probably happy about that, too.

Ori set the hammer aside again, picking up his knitting once more. Dwalin watched quietly for a while as he worked through stitch after stitch, feeling too tired to even try to continue the conversation.

It was for the better, anyway. If Dwalin had continued talking, he would have felt compelled to point out that Fíli was even more jealous of his weapons than Dwalin himself, and didn't let even Kíli borrow his hammer.

*

Ori was, in fact, correct. After a visit from Óin that involved a lot more poking and prodding than he was comfortable with, as well as strict orders not to even think about doing anything but lie still for a while, Dwalin received an almost constant stream of visitors. The first was Bombur, bringing both him and Ori a very welcome plate of hot food, though Dwalin was warned not to eat too much or too fast. The poison might make him sick, even with most of it purged from his system, and vomiting would not have been good for his injury.

It was Bombur's good stew, though, so it almost would have been worth it.

Thorin was the next, unsurprisingly, with Balin walking in right behind him. Both of them were visibly armed, more heavily so than they usually were inside the mountain. Dwalin remembered Ori's words — no one involved with the royal family was to go anywhere alone — and concluded they must have also served as each other's guard detail.

"You are an idiot," Thorin said without a preamble, and yes, that was his oldest friend all right. "What exactly did you think you were accomplishing?"

"Saving you." As was his duty. "I'm not going to apologise, Thorin. We both know I'll always put your safety before mine."

"Right." Thorin sighed, running a hand over his hair. He wasn't wearing his crown, or any of the rest of his court outfit, and for the first time Dwalin started to wonder just how long he had been unconscious. He hadn't thought to ask any of the others, but apparently it was the next day at the very least. "I suppose it could have gone worse."

"Could have gone better," Dwalin grunted. "I heard the culprit got away." How that had happened when they were surrounded by people, he didn't know.

"It was clearly premeditated," Balin sighed. "They had a rope hidden away and attached to one of the ledges, and dropped out of our reach. Kíli's elf went down after them after the commotion died down and found that they had footholds prepared for escape and probably slipped away to one of the side tunnels."

"This is my fault." Dwalin rubbed a hand over his face. "I should have had the whole place inspected before any open court sessions were allowed to take place."

"It's not." Thorin shook his head. "There hasn't exactly been time and resources to go through the entire throne room; we barely managed to make sure it's stable enough the walkways won't start crumbling. It's hardly your fault that the actual courtroom is still in disrepair and we had to use the throne room. Besides, they arrived the same way as anyone else, not up the support pillars, and you are the only one who got seriously injured anyway."

"They escaped, though," Dwalin pointed out. "And if an assassin can just walk up to you, that's still my fault."

"You shielded me, though." Thorin stepped closer, now, touching Dwalin's hand. "I find no fault in your actions, old friend. You have kept me safe, just as you have sworn to do."

"You need to rest now, little brother, and get better," Balin added. "We'll take care of the rest."

Clearly Balin and Thorin both knew him very well, as they both slipped away immediately, not staying to listen to his curses.

Others came next, members of the Company dropping in to see how he was doing. The princes came together, somewhat later than he might have expected; usually they were the first ones anywhere. Neither of them looked especially happy, but Fíli in particular looked exhausted. There was a strained look in his eyes, and Dwalin wondered if his arm was paining him. It was still not properly healed even weeks after the battle, having been badly broken thanks to some orc's heavy club.

"We have doubled the guard patrols, and are circulating a description of the culprit, with promise of a reward," Fíli said before Dwalin could even ask. "The royal quarters and your rooms have guards around the clock. We won't let them hurt anyone else."

"Good." Dwalin nodded. "And where's Kíli's elf?" He still wasn't entirely sure about the redhead elf who had become Kíli's near constant shadow — or, rather, Kíli had become hers — but he wasn't going to claim she couldn't fight.

"She's staying with Bilbo in the royal quarters," Kíli answered. "As long as we aren't clear on the motivations, we figured it's best for them to stay out of sight, since there's a chance the attacker doesn't like uncle's decision to allow non-dwarves into the mountain."

"Smart thinking." Dwalin flicked his eyes toward Fíli. "And why do you look like you've been chased by wargs for a week? You're not going to accomplish anything like that." Because he was one to speak, obviously, but then he wasn't the one currently claiming responsibility for the search for the assassin.

"He's barely slept a wink since yesterday," Kíli cut in before Fíli could say anything. "Been worrying about this mess the whole time."

"That's not good." Ori had stayed mostly silent through all the visits, only occasionally looking up from his knitting to make sure all visitors were familiar, but now he chose to speak up, setting down his project. Not that he actually needed to, Dwalin was pretty sure he'd seen the lad hold a full conversation with eye contact besides without stopping his needles, but he supposed this demanded a little more concentration than campside chatter. "You won't be any help to anyone if you don't rest, and besides your arm still needs time to heal, too."

Fíli glanced at Ori, but instead of snapping something as Dwalin might have expected — Fíli always got more short-tempered when he was tired — he just sighed. "This is my fault," he muttered. "If I'd managed to stop that bastard, we wouldn't be in this trouble now."

"Don't be an idiot, Fíli," Kíli snorted. "Your better arm is broken, and you didn't even have your swords! What were you going to do, hit them with your splint?"

"I could have done something at least! Instead I just stood there like an idiot and they got away!"

"There were others there, too," Ori pointed out. "It's not just you who failed to stop them. Besides, if someone is attacking the royal family, I'm pretty sure the best thing you can do is stay out of the way, not rush in while injured and make their job easier!" He sounded almost angry now, pointing at Fíli with a trembling hand.

"You should listen to the lad," Dwalin grunted. "He's right, you shouldn't try to offer yourself up for assassination, especially when you're still healing. Pretty much any reason why anyone would go after Thorin would make you a good target as well, and just because one knife was stuck in my gut doesn't mean they couldn't have had another blade."

Ori lifted his eyebrows in a clear "See?" gesture, and Kíli nodded in agreement. Fíli glared at each of them in turn, then sighed.

"Fine, so it wasn't all my fault. It's still my job to try to find them now, with Dwalin out of commission, but we're having no progress."

"It's still the guards who should be out there searching," Ori said. "Again, you shouldn't go offering yourself up for trouble with the attacker still out there. And since the guards have their instructions, you not getting enough rest isn't actually helping anyone."

"Good to know Dori's not the only sensible one in the family." Nori certainly didn't count, with his quick fingers and quicker tongue and bad habit of getting into trouble. "If I'm ordered to get rest, the same goes for you. Just because my wounds are fresher doesn't mean you're in full fighting order yet."

"I'm sure Ori would be happy to guard you, too," Kíli added with a cheeky grin. "How about it, Ori? With Bilbo and Tauriel here, he's the only royal right now who doesn't have anyone to share his bedroom, you know." And that was more information about his elf than Dwalin ever wanted to know, thank you. "I'm sure he could use someone to make sure he doesn't just pace around the whole night."

Dwalin snorted. "Not sure even he could manage that without tying Fíli down," he said. "Takes after his uncle, this one. He never was very sensible, either."

"Then I'll do that, if that's what it takes," Ori said without a moment's hesitation. "I'm quite good with knots."

Now, Fíli spluttered in embarrassment, while Kíli broke out chortling in amusement. Ori wore such a perfect look of innocence that it had to be fake. Dwalin supposed it was good to know Dori wasn't the only one who had taught the lad a thing or two.

Nori would have been very proud, if only he'd been here to see.

The princes left soon after that, with some more teasing from Kíli and rather more embarrassment from Fíli. The crown prince did throw one last glance over his shoulder before leaving, though, and Ori was looking after him. Well, there could have been a lot worse things. A lot worse indeed.

Dwalin refrained from asking any questions even after the princes had left, though. He was sure he'd hear soon enough if anything actually happened. Fíli didn't lend his hammer to just anyone, after all.

Dori was the last visitor of the day, arriving with a little lamp and some simple sewing, no doubt to occupy himself, as well as a rather impressive battle axe that he had slung over one shoulder. Clearly he was here for guard duty, too. "Go get some sleep," he told Ori, ushering his little brother out of the room. "You, too, Dwalin. I'll have you know I've had a nice, long nap, and I'm feeling very awake indeed; I will know if you don't sleep properly."

Dwalin could have protested about how he didn't need a personal guard for the night, but his stomach was still in quite considerable pain even with Óin's various concoctions, and the fact was that the culprit was still at large. So, he sank back into his pillow as Dori blew out the main light in the room, trying to sleep.

Nori had not visited yet.

*

The next day, there were more visitors, or rather more of the same. Fíli seemed more rested when the princes dropped by, cheerful even, and as Ori came to relieve Dori of his guard duty he didn't seem quite as grim as the day before. Dwalin decided not to think too closely on it, instead focusing on keeping himself from being bored out of his skull. He couldn't do much of anything without pulling at his wound, still, so mostly this meant humming old battle songs to himself. At least Bilbo brought along some snacks, even if he still had to be careful not to eat too much, and some of the others spent a little while telling him stories or just chatting to distract him from the pain and the boredom. Dori and Ori also told the occasional tale or sang, one or the other keeping constant guard at the side of his bed, taking turns. All in all, it could have been a lot worse, even as time stretched on to the next day.

Nori still didn't visit.

*

It was three days after the attack that Dwalin woke up in the middle of the night.

He wasn't sure what had woken him, but then he had learnt there was often no time for such analysis. Something was going on, something that wasn't the soft click of Ori's needles at the side of his bed, and that meant he needed to be awake, to be alert.

Ori's needles were quiet, and there was a shadowed figure standing beside his bed.

Dwalin grew alarmed for all of a second before the figure sat down on the edge of the bed, giving a very familiar sigh. "I sent the lad off to bed," Nori murmured, his voice rough and tired. "Not sure he's headed into his own, though. Dori's going to throw a fit when he notices."

"You're here." Bravo, Dwalin, you're really showing off your wits here. Though in his defence he was still half asleep. "Where were you?"

"Where do you think?" Nori made a gesture, and something landed on the covers. Dwalin reached for it. It was a thick braid, beard by the feel of it.

The assassin had worn their beard on one thick braid.

"You found them." He didn't bother to ask.

"Of course I did." Nori stretched, the movement only barely visible in the almost-darkness of the room, with only the banked fire casting any amount of light. "Took me a damn while, though, but I found them and got the information. No need to worry about a further conspiracy, thankfully. It seems their mother died in Azanulbizar and for some reason they decided to blame Thorin for it."

"Long time to hold a grudge." Not that there was any logic to it, of course. Thorin was more or less the only reason anyone had come back alive from the battle, he could hardly be held responsible for all the deaths.

"That's what makes it a grudge." Nori bent over, and Dwalin heard the soft sound of boots being dropped on the floor. "I'll have a full report for Thorin in the morning, and a rather ugly corpse for someone to deal with."

"Of course." He hadn't truly expected the culprit to make it to trial. High treason was punishable by death, always, and Nori wasn't exactly one for following the rules when the end result was clear anyway. "I'm sure you were only acting in self-defence."

"Naturally." Nori stretched again, then laid himself down next to Dwalin. The bed wasn't very big — they couldn't exactly be picky, with choices still limited to either things that had survived the dragon's reign or had been brought over by traders in the weeks following — but they seemed to fit well enough. One of Nori's hands rested on Dwalin's chest, well away from the wound. "They went straight for my heart. I had little choice."

"Right." And why did Dwalin's throat suddenly feel very tight? "Get some sleep."

"Aye, that'd be a good idea." Nori yawned, and his warm breath washed against the skin of Dwalin's shoulder. "And in the morning someone can tell me why Ori had one of the older princeling's hair beads at the bottom of his knitting bag."

"I'm sure we'd all be very curious to hear that." Dwalin smiled in the dark, and for the first time in quite a while he could breathe freely. "Try not to stab me in your sleep."

"No promises." And then, between one breath and the next, Nori was asleep, just like that. Dwalin sensed it more than anything, the way Nori relaxed against him, the deep sleep of exhaustion taking over after what Dwalin suspected had been a very busy few days.

It should have been hard for Dwalin to sleep with someone so close by, especially someone he knew without a doubt could turn extremely lethal in the blink of an eye. Nori's hand was still resting on his chest, very nearly close enough to his throat to grab him, and Dwalin was far too weak from his injury still to do much about it.

Dwalin closed his eyes and drifted off, sleeping soundly for the first time in days.

Once he could sit up properly, he should finally start designing the bloody courting beads.


End file.
